


All Worked Up

by epiproctan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Misunderstandings, Office Sex, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 17:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiproctan/pseuds/epiproctan
Summary: Keith is the mysterious cool new guy in the office. He drives a motorcycle, goes out for lunch with a beautiful woman, and gets all his work done. He also wears a wedding ring, but that doesn't seem to stop him from cozying up with his boss, Shiro.Lance, Pidge, and Hunk make it their business.





	All Worked Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abyssiniana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/gifts).



> written for the keith birthday exchange. i hope you like it rita! 
> 
> hbd to the love of ~~my~~ shiro's life

“Good luck today.”

Shiro catches a glimpse of his husband’s smile in response to his well-wishes as he snatches his lunch off the kitchen counter, where his husband has prepared and bagged both of theirs, side by side. Shiro leans in to kiss him on the forehead. 

His husband has other plans for Shiro’s lips. He grabs him by his collar and yanks him down for a kiss that sets Shiro’s heart pounding, just the way that all of their kisses do. 

“Thanks,” he says against Shiro’s mouth. “Have a good day at work.”

Shiro reluctantly pulls away, but leaves his husband with a grin. “You know I will.”

* * *

Monday morning, 9:30 AM. 

Lance’s coffee has kicked in, praise the powers that be, but only just barely enough to get him through the team meeting. He’s ready to make a pillow out of his memo pad right here on the conference table, but he’s still on thin ice after snoring loudly in that big meeting with the company bigshots last week. So he tries to keep his head up and his eyes open and his airways unobstructed. At the front of the room, Shiro is somehow scintillating with that bizarre morning person aura that Lance thinks must have been the result of a deal with the devil. 

He probably woke up at five, went for a jog, and had time after his shower to make a balanced breakfast. It’s a wonder that he’s able to string together even a single coherent sentence this early on a Monday, let alone the entire past half hour of intelligent speech. It’s godlike. But Lance can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s blessedly reaching the end of his litany of this week’s goals and to-dos. 

“Last thing,” Shiro says, and the words are a glorious symphony to Lance’s ears. As soon as this meeting is over, Lance can park himself on the break room couch and pretend to be checking emails on his phone while actually scrolling through his Twitter feed.

“You’ve all heard we’re getting a transfer, right?” 

Lance  _ has _ heard this actually. He does briefly skim the emails that Shiro sends to the floor, thank you very much. Also, the only empty desk in the office is the one next to his, and twice last week Shiro came by to check if the computer worked and made sure there were pencils in the top drawer. 

“He’s a designer,” Shiro says. “He’s coming over from that Blades of Marmora project that just wrapped up. He’ll be doing advertising.”

Lance almost groans out loud. If he’s in advertising, that means Lance has to  _ work _ with the guy. That takes coordination and cooperation, and while Lance is a people person he also knows that it’s impossible to get anything done with a stubborn designer. Is there anything worse than finding that out first thing on a Monday morning?

Uh, yeah. There is, it turns out. 

Lance comes back from his break room couch nap to find a familiar head of dark, disheveled hair standing at the desk next to his own, setting a stack of sketchbooks on his desktop. Recognition flashes through Lance like the unwelcome static electricity that comes from touching a doorknob after dragging your socks across the carpet. 

He doesn’t need to glance at this guy’s nameplate to know his name, but he does anyway just to cement the horror that’s building in his mind. It’s half-hidden behind his computer, reading “KEITH KOGANE-SH...” before it gets cut off. That’s fine, Lance only needs a first name to work with anyway.

“Hey, I know you,” Lance says.

The man whirls. He’s about five foot eight of tensed muscles and angry-looking eyebrows. He takes Lance in with dark eyes that would intimidate a lesser man than Lance McClain, cool ninja marketer. He’s got a scar running down his right cheek that makes him almost incongruous in the office, like he belongs out in South America starring in survival documentaries instead of wearing a polo under the fluorescent lights. 

“You do?” Keith asks, after flicking his eyes up and down Lance and making him feel suitably insignificant.

Lance is  _ highly _ offended _.  _ “I’m  _ Lance _ ,” he states emphatically.

And gets a blank stare for it. 

“We were in job orientation together!” he continues, not entirely proud of the way his voice has climbed an octave. He steamrolls on anyway. “You were that know-it-all asshole and I was the cool dude who knew everything better.”

This doesn’t seem to ring any bells with Keith, who simply continues to stare at him with his lips parted. If Lance didn’t think he was being an asshole just for the heck of it, which he obviously  _ is _ , he would say he looks bewildered. Keith manages to snap his mouth closed.

“Oh, uh,” he says. “Are you...a beta tester?”

“No!” Lance squawks. “I’m in advertising!” 

“Huh,” Keith says, looking a little bemused. “Okay.”

Lance is saved the humiliation of continued conversation by Keith turning back towards his desk to rearrange the scattered collection of office supplies on the surface. He returns to his own desk, totally not sizing up this guy to his right to see what had all the bigshots at orientation openly lauding his skills and all the girls in the breakroom twittering his name. It’s not his stellar personality, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s just that he’s got some kind of mysterious allure. People seem to be into that for some reason. 

That theory goes straight out the window when Lance catches a glimpse of Keith’s left hand.

“Whoa, are you married?” he blurts. 

“Huh?” Keith jolts a little, and then turns to  give him a weird look. To be fair, Lance had asked the question seemingly out of the blue, but he was just trying to make polite conversation, alright? 

“I  _ said _ , are you married?” Lance repeats.

It still takes an uncomfortably silent moment of Keith staring at Lance before he asks, “Is that a joke?”

“Uh,  _ no _ ,” Lance replies. “You’ve got a wedding band on.”

Keith is frowning, a deep crease dug between his eyebrows. “Yes, obviously I’m married!”

It’s a weirdly aggressive response, said in a weirdly snappy tone, and Lance barks a laugh. “I’d love to see the person who could handle  _ y _ —”

“Hey, new guy,” interrupts a voice from the end of the room. Lance and Keith both swivel to see Shiro leaning his broad, beautiful shoulders out of his office door. “Care to step into my office for a minute?”

“Yes sir,” Keith replies, and Lance thinks he catches the slightest hint of a grin on his face before he drops his pencils onto his desk and goes trotting across the room. Shiro smiles back good-naturedly and holds the door open for him before shutting it behind the both of them. 

_ Sketchy _ , Lance muses to himself before returning to his work.

* * *

The new guy is kind of nice! He’s a little aloof, a little prickly, grumpy before he has his coffee in the morning, but he’s not the hellspawn douchebag that Lance continually and vociferously describes him as. He was nothing but polite when Hunk offered him one of his homemade banana oatmeal coconut muffins in the break room yesterday. Pidge mentioned earlier that they’d had a nice conversation about eighties music by the copy machine. Hunk had even caught Shiro, on one of his rare breaks, smiling and chatting with him in front of the water cooler. 

He’s not a bad dude. Hunk can attest to that himself, no matter what Lance says. And Hunk does feel pretty bad that Lance has taken such an immediate dislike to him. So he reaches out a hand. 

“Hey man,” Hunk says, sitting down across from Keith in the break room. Looks like they’re both having a bit of a 3 PM snack time. Keith’s dark eyes flash up towards him as he sits. “How’s it going? The new office treating you okay?”

Keith averts his eyes and gives him a one-shouldered shrug, but it seems more out of social discomfort than rudeness. Hunk can understand that. When  _ he _ was the new guy it took him ten minutes of breathing exercises in the bathroom before he could finally convince himself to say hello to Pidge at the desk next to him for the first time. 

“Yeah, everything’s cool,” Keith says. “Things run smoothly. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Hunk can’t help a grin. “Lance giving you trouble?”

Keith frowns deeply in response, and Hunk knows he’s touched a nerve. The distant persona fractures and gives way under Keith’s obvious irritation. 

“What is  _ up _ with that guy?” he says, volume climbing. “I don’t even  _ know _ him but he’s made it his personal mission to mess with me. I don’t get it.”

_ Poor guy _ . Keith is (most likely) undeserving of the treatment Lance has been giving him. Even as Lance’s best friend, Hunk can recognize that.  _ Especially  _ as Lance’s best friend, actually. 

“Yeah, he kinda gets carried away a lot,” Hunk says sympathetically. “He’s a good guy though, I promise. He probably just feels threatened, what with you being the cool mysterious new designer guy.” 

He watches as Keith’s brow furrows again, and his mouth shapes itself into something that looks like a confused echo of the word  _ mysterious _ . 

“He’ll warm up to you sooner or later,” Hunk promises. “And even if he doesn’t there are plenty of other cool people in the office. You met Pidge, right?”

Keith’s forehead smoothes out. “Oh, yeah. She seems nice.”

“She is!” Hunk agrees with a nod. “She’s probably the smartest person to ever come through this company, except maybe her brother. He’s on that new project—Coalition?—in the branch office though.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Yeah, then there’s...who else. Romelle at reception is really nice. She’s sweet. Slav the IT guy is really smart, but Shiro’s banned him from this floor. Me and Pidge fix everything better anyway, and Coran’s always got some duct tape on him to patch stuff up. And I’m sure you’ve met Allura, since you’ve been in the company for awhile. Even though she’s the CEO she really cares about everyone.”

Keith nods along the entire time, but Hunk isn’t sure if he’s really invested in what’s being said or if he’s being polite. He begins to wonder if Keith has heard this all before, maybe. If someone else in the office had already beaten him to the big rundown. Hunk’s heard through the grapevine (read: Lance) that Shiro’s been pretty hands-on with getting Keith oriented, so maybe that’s who his source has been. But that just means he hasn’t gotten the dirt on Shiro himself yet. 

“And of course there’s Shiro. He’s a big commanding dude and kinda intimidating with how on top of everything he is but honestly he’s one of the softest guys you’ll ever meet. You should hear him talk about his husband!” Hunk has to smile just thinking about it. He doesn’t know if he’s ever met anyone as blatantly enamored as Shiro is. “He turns into a big teddy bear, gets all lovestruck. It’s really cute, apparently they have like a dog and two cats together or something—”

“Three cats,” says Keith, who is no longer looking at Hunk but at some fixed point somewhere on the wall to his right. His voice suddenly sounds strained and his face has gone a deep flushed color, and Hunk wonders if Keith’s already going to need to be using a sick day. Out of politeness he doesn’t draw attention to it.

“Three?” he laughs. “Oh, you got the speech already? It’s cute right?” Hunk rests his chin on his hand. “You gotta wonder what kind of guy his husband is, you know?”

Keith stands abruptly, knocking his chair backwards with a squeak. 

“Gonna get back to work,” he says, and without another word turns and marches for the door. 

“Oh, uh, alright!” Hunk calls after him. “Good luck! I’ll catch you out there.”

Not a bad guy at all. A little awkward, maybe, but not bad. 

* * *

“We need a team meeting,” says Lance, and he’s whispering but it’s so furious that Pidge is pretty positive the entire floor can hear him anyway.

Regardless she lets him shepard her and Hunk into the cramped supply closet, shut the door, and lock it behind them, because he’s got that manic look in his eye that means he’s not going to let go of this until they give him exactly what he wants. So she hops up to perch on one of the cluttered shelves and gives Lance her shrewdest look. 

“What is it this time?” she asks dryly. “Did Nyma from HR say something mean to you again?”

Lance doesn’t deign to give her a response, his mouth instead falling into a flat, serious line. 

“Keith is bad news,” he says. “Really bad news. He’s married, but I definitely saw him flirting with Shiro this morning.”

Hunk rolls his eyes, and Pidge thinks that if Lance wasn’t standing with his back against the closet door Hunk would already be back at his desk. 

“Come on, Lance,” Hunk says. “I talked to Keith the other day. He’s a cool guy! Plus, with the way Shiro talks about his husband could you imagine him ever doing anything to betray his trust?”

“I know what I saw!” Lance replies. “They were...they were totally eyefucking!!”

Pidge hums thoughtfully and squints at Lance through her glasses. “Is this like the time you thought Allura was asking you on a date when really she was just telling you that she didn’t want you wearing birkenstocks to work?”

Lance turns the same shade as a stoplight but it doesn’t stop him from sputtering, “This has nothing to do with that!”

“Okay, Lance,” Pidge says with a sigh. “What did you see? Tell us in objective detail.”

This is apparently the kind of validation Lance wanted, going off the determined expression that comes over his face, and Pidge knows she’s one step closer to getting back to the thick tangle of C++ code she was just ironing the bugs out of. He crosses his arms and launches into his explanation. 

“I was sitting at my desk, totally minding my own business—,” here Hunk visibly rolls his eyes again, “—when Shiro came over to Keith’s desk to give him some documents. But Keith couldn’t just  _ take _ them like a normal person, he had to make sure his hand brushed against Shiro’s when he did!”

Pidge can’t help it. She looks over at Hunk to share a gaze of mutual unamusement. It’s their usual,  _ Lance is our best friend, this is what we signed up for _ , look and it has never felt more fitting than it does right now. 

“Okay, their hands brushed,” Hunk says. “Anything else?”

“Well Keith got all smiley, which was fucking weird, and goes, _ ‘These for me? Thanks,’ _ in this gross little voice,” Lance plows on. “And Shiro smiled too, and then they were both just smiling at each other!”

“Ah, smiling,” Hunk says, with a thoughtful hand at his chin. “The most suspicious of the expressions.”

To his credit, Pidge can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or if Lance is starting to win him over, but Pidge isn’t having any of it. 

“Right, remind me to never smile again,” she says. “Is that all? I’ve got stuff to do.”

Lance frowns. “What do you mean,  _ is that all _ ? I just witnessed the seeds of infidelity being planted!”

Pidge thinks of Shiro, and she thinks of Keith. Sure, they’re two relatively young guys, and objectively attractive. They seem to get along well from their interactions in the brief time Keith’s been here, but even if Lance is telling his story without hyperbole (unlikely) then there’s no reason to accuse the two of anything more than fast friendship. 

She sighs. “There’s insufficient evidence, Lance. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

Hunk nods along sagely. “Cut him a break, man. Keith isn’t a bad dude.”

Lance crosses his arms and grumbles. “I know you guys don’t believe me, but I know what I saw.”

“Uh-huh,” Pidge says, pushing off the shelf. Her feet hit the floor with a satisfying thud before she pushes past Lance into the brightness of the office floor. “You guys wanna get Thai for lunch?”

* * *

Hunk is partaking in a rare moment of peace and quiet and cheesecake in the back corner of the break room, which is the reason why he doesn’t say hello when Keith comes in. It’s kind of rude, he knows, but he’s 12 pages into a new cooking blog on his phone that he stumbled across and he can’t decide if the author is a cooking genius or if they don’t know a julienne from a brunoise. He doesn’t want to lose his train of thought on this. Anyway, if Keith really wanted to talk to him, he would, but it seems like Keith hasn’t even noticed Hunk’s presence. 

Out of the corner of his eye he watches Keith fiddle with the coffee machine. It takes longer than usual, and then Keith is rifling through drawers. Hunk is about to call out and ask him what he’s looking for, but then Keith opens the overhead cabinet and spots the coffee beans on the top shelf. This is presumably what he needed, because he reaches up towards it. But even on his tiptoes, the bag is just beyond the tips of his outstretched fingers. 

Hunk puts his phone down, but he doesn’t even get out of his seat before the break room door opens again. 

Shiro, the workaholic that he is, is a rare sight in the break room. In fact, Hunk contemplates snapping a picture to prove to the others later that he saw him in there, but the thought is dashed from his mind when Shiro immediately zeroes in on Keith. 

“Hey,” Shiro says. He goes up behind Keith. 

And keeps going, and going, and  _ going _ , until he’s crowded against Keith. In a completely casual motion, Shiro presses his entire front against Keith’s back, and then slides his left hand down until it rests, relaxed but proprietary, on his hip. With his prosthetic, he draws his hand along Keith’s still-reaching arm until he reaches the bag of coffee. His impressive height allows him to grab it without issue, and he nudges it into Keith’s waiting grip.

Hunk glances around wildly for someone else to share in the disbelief of this moment, for the hidden cameras that have got to be around here somewhere. He’s seeing things, right? He’s dreaming? There’s no way that Shiro, the guy who led the company-wide presentation on sexual harassment, would  _ ever _ initiate this kind of physical contact with one of his employees.

Keith puts the coffee beans on the counter, and Hunk half expects it’s in preparation for him to lay Shiro flat on the floor. Keith looks like the kind of guy who’s proficient in at least three kinds of martial arts, and Hunk doesn’t doubt that if he wanted to, he could take on a man of Shiro’s size. He fears he’s about to get an up close and personal demonstration of a leg-hook Saito suplex.

But instead, when Keith turns towards Shiro it’s with languid, slow motions, and he allows himself to be caged against the countertop, resting on it as he and Shiro come chest-to-chest. When he looks up into Shiro’s face, he’s grinning a little with the kind of gentle expression Hunk has never seen on him before. 

“I could’ve gotten it,” Keith says. Indignantly, but softly, with that smile still tugging at his lips.

Their faces are so close. They’re looking into each other’s eyes. Hunk has seen more than his fair share of romcoms, and this is the moment where the two leads always kiss. 

“Oh yeah?” Shiro teases, voice low. “Then why didn’t you?”

A loud clatter echoes through the room as Hunk’s phone slips through his shocked fingers and hits the wooden surface of the table. His jaw would hit the table too, if it wasn’t hinged on. 

Keith and Shiro’s heads whip around towards Hunk, and Shiro leaps back from Keith and the counter, as if their close proximity hadn’t already been witnessed. But the damage has been done. Hunk has seen  _ far _ too much with his poor, innocent eyes. 

“Oh, hey Hunk,” Shiro says, playing at a collectedness that he simply doesn’t have right now. “I didn’t see you there.”

_ I know _ , Hunk thinks.  _ You only had eyes for  _ one _ person in this room. _

Anyway, he’s not about to have this awkward conversation. With a polite nod to Keith, who’s still pressed against the countertop and glaring as though  _ Hunk _ was the one who was making a scene in the break room, Hunk stands and grabs his phone. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Been here the whole time! But, uh, gotta get back to work. Catch you later!”

He tosses the remnants of his cheesecake in the trash while making his hasty retreat, and he doesn’t look back once. 

Instead he makes a beeline for Lance’s desk.

Lance, who is playing computer solitaire with his feet propped up on his desk. Hunk takes a second to wonder what Lance gets paid for before leaning in to keep his volume down. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, man,” Hunk says. “You were totally right about Shiro and Keith.”

Lance jerks upright, game forgotten and expression serious. 

He looks at Hunk searchingly. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain at lunch,” Hunk whispers, glancing back towards the break room door. The last thing he needs is for his boss to reemerge to find him gossiping about him. 

As he heads back towards his own desk, Hunk thinks back to the conversation he’d had with Keith about Shiro, back when Keith first arrived. When he’d talked about Shiro and Shiro’s husband, Keith had looked really flustered and left in a hurry. Hunk had thought it was just a bit of social awkwardness, but what if that wasn’t it at all? What if Keith had been developing some kind of crush on Shiro even back then, and hadn’t been able to handle talking about him and his husband, knowing that they could never have the fairytale office romance that he probably dreamed up in his head?

Hunk can’t approve of this behavior. Cheating is wrong. If they  _ need _ to do this, if they’re falling in love or just into each other’s bodies, they should break up with their respective significant others first. They should be honest. And they definitely should not be flirting in the office where anyone could get caught up in the moral conundrum of being witness to their disloyalty. 

They need to keep this private. It’s only the right thing to do.

* * *

Some lines should never,  _ ever _ be crossed. Even by your boss. Even by your ridiculously talented and roguishly handsome asshole desk neighbor.  _ Especially  _ by those people. And this is definitely one of them.

This is  _ Lance’s  _ supply closet! It may not have his name on it or anything but  _ everyone _ knows that. Everyone has seen him disappear into here from time to time, whether it’s to have a phone call with his mom, or to drag Hunk and Pidge with him to tell them that he made eye contact with Allura, or just to take a nap with his head resting against the boxes of erasable pens. He spends too much time in there for it to not be  _ his _ space. He owns it, practically. He’s a king, and this closet is his kingdom. 

So then,  _ why _ did he hear murmurs coming from inside as he was passing by just a moment ago? Why, when he stopped to investigate about who the dastardly trespassers are, did he press his ear up against the door to hear two familiar voices, low and soft?

“Keith, you  _ know _ we can’t let anyone catch wind of this.” Shiro’s deep voice rumbles, strained and despairing, from the other side of the door.

“This?” Keith echoes, and something in his tone has gone husky and low. He sounds almost teasing, and isn’t that a horrifying concept for a Tuesday afternoon.

“Us,” replies Shiro helplessly.

There’s some shuffling, some indeterminable  _ swish-swishes  _ that could be clothes brushing. 

“Am I your dirty little secret?” Keith asks, reaching a level of coy that Lance didn’t even think was possible for him. It sounds half-wry, half-joking, but that’s still a half too much that’s serious and it makes Lance nauseous at the thought. 

Shiro’s voice is deep and dark and playful as he responds, “Do you want to be?” 

Their conversation is cut off by wet smacks of what Lance can only hope are their lips. 

Lance leaps back from the door like it bit him, stands, and power walks back to his desk as quickly as he possibly can. He’s still sitting there in shocked stillness five minutes later when Keith rounds the hallway corner, hair sticking up in the back and shirt looking terribly, horrifyingly rumpled. Lance doesn’t acknowledge him as he sits down, but instead waits for him to get back to his work before glaring a hole in the back of his head.  _ I know what you did _ . 

Shiro appears a minute later. He walks without stopping to his office and shuts the door behind him. 

He wasn’t quick enough for Lance to not notice that his shirt was misbuttoned. 

* * *

Pidge is hopping out of her car when she hears laughter. The parking lot is pretty empty at this hour, since Pidge didn’t sleep at all last night and decided to come in as soon as it was socially acceptable, and so it’s not hard to zero in on the source. She glances around the open asphalt, and her stomach sinks as she spots it right away. 

The driver’s side door of Shiro’s black Land Rover is propped open, and through the windshield she can see he’s not alone inside of it. Keith is in the passenger’s seat, face smooth and devoid of the usual knotted-brow expression he wears when he’s deep in his work. He’s turned towards Shiro in the driver’s seat, who’s talking animatedly while sipping something from a Starbucks cup. There’s something weirdly soft in the way both of them are holding their bodies, a defenselessness in their body language that Pidge has never seen around the floor. 

Pidge looks around for Keith’s red motorcycle. She knows he has one because even before he’d been transferred to their project,  _ Voltron _ , there’d been a fuss amongst some of the office ladies about the man in the leather jacket who comes to work on a bike. Today, it’s suspiciously absent. 

She watches them closely from where she’s hidden behind her car. There could be a perfectly innocent reason for this. Maybe Keith’s bike broke down and Shiro was kind enough to go pick him up. Maybe they live in the same area and carpool to conserve gas. Maybe Keith parked down the street and they just went on a coffee run for the office together, and there’s going to be a caramel latte waiting for Pidge when she goes inside.

But all her hopeful hypotheses are proved woefully false when Keith and Shiro finally climb out of the car. Before Keith can get his door closed, Shiro jogs around to his side of the car. With a thick, powerful arm, Shiro reaches past Keith’s head and slams the door shut, pushing Keith back against it in the process. 

“One more,” Shiro says, stepping in until he’s caged over Keith. His voice is soft, tender, but it carries across the empty parking lot. 

Keith laughs low, matching the sound that Pidge had heard earlier. “You’re insatiable,” he says, but he leans up to press his mouth to Shiro’s anyway. 

Pidge ducks down further behind her car, half to give them privacy and half to gag to herself. They’re in a public parking lot, for crying out loud. Anyone can see them. Someone  _ is _ seeing them!

She stays tucked behind her car until she hears their footsteps, the beep of Shiro’s truck locking behind them. 

“Want a ride tonight too?” Shiro asks Keith as they’re walking by Pidge’s car. 

“You already know I do,” Keith replies easily. Pidge peeks out from behind her side mirror and sees them walking towards the company building, hand in hand.

Pidge’s family has been close with Shiro for a long time. Matt was even in Shiro’s wedding party, and though Pidge had been away at college at the time he’d told her that he’d never seen Shiro so happy as he was with his husband. She’d never met the guy, but it was bitterly disappointing to realize that even a love like that, even a guy as good-hearted and well-intentioned as Shiro, could be torn apart by a bit of flirting from an attractive young man with intense purple eyes. 

Not that this is entirely Keith’s fault. They both have their parts to play in this, and it isn’t getting either of them any respect from Pidge. 

During Pidge’s mid-morning break she throws herself across Hunk and Lance’s laps on the break room couch with a sigh. 

“I overheard Shiro offering Keith a ride home from work today,” she groans. “He accepted, of course.”

Lance wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure Shiro will be giving Keith  _ a ride _ alright.”

Pidge does  _ not _ want to think about that. 

* * *

There’s a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Shiro calls from behind his desk. 

He doesn’t usually keep his door closed. He likes the idea that his employees can reach him effortlessly. He misses the camaraderie of just being another desk on the floor, rather than being sequestered in his own personal office. 

But having a door and his own four walls does come with its perks. 

The door opens, and Keith looks inside, expression impassive. He steps in and shuts the door behind him, the lock sliding into place with a click. 

“I have some thumbnails,” he says, waving the sheaf of papers in his hand. 

The curtains are drawn over the window behind Shiro’s desk. It’s a bright, sunny day out, but he’d just closed the cloth against the sunlight in favor of privacy. 

“Come here,” he says. “Let me see.”

Keith obeys. He takes slow, deliberate steps towards where Shiro is waiting for him behind the desk. Any other employee would stand across the desk from Shiro and pass the papers across its surface. But not Keith. Keith walks around to where Shiro is sitting, draws close to his chair, and drops the papers right in front of him. 

Shiro pretends, for just a moment, to be interested. He picks up the top page and looks at the designs, and Keith plays along, pointing at different aspects of each and explaining them to Shiro in detail. As if he’s a good employee meeting with his boss. As if he doesn’t know why he’s really here. 

Generally a very patient man, Shiro tries to wait politely until Keith’s finished talking, but without realizing it at some point his hand has risen to rest on Keith’s thigh, his fingers brushing against the inside seam of his pant leg. Keith, with his wild, intense, burning eyes, doesn’t seem to have noticed and continues talking. Even as Shiro’s hand crawls up his leg. Even as Shiro squeezes around a handful of flesh. Even as Shiro reaches around and drags Keith into his lap, tightening his grip on Keith’s narrow hips.

It isn’t until Shiro noses into the long locks of Keith’s hair, tugs down his collar, and begins pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the exposed pale skin of Keith’s neck that he breaks off with a breathy, “F-fuck—”

“Shh,” Shiro reminds him as he rucks up the front of his shirt. Keith’s skin is beautifully soft and smooth under the fabric, the defined lines of his muscles sliding under Shiro’s fingertips. “The whole office is on the other side of that wall. Don’t let anyone hear you.”

Keith lets out a shuddering breath in response, because Shiro’s hand is on him over his slacks, and he doesn’t hesitate to give a warning squeeze to what he finds there. The lithe, beautiful man in his arms is already hard. This brings Shiro a wave of self-satisfied joy, given that he himself has been straining in his pants under his desk since Keith walked through his door. 

But this isn’t about him. It’s about Keith. 

Practiced and sure, Shiro undoes Keith’s belt, his buttons, his zipper. Keith reaches behind him with both arms, wrapping them around Shiro’s neck, and cranes his head to kiss Shiro. It’s slack-mouthed, sloppy, hot and unfocused, and Shiro’s barely even gotten his hand into Keith’s pants yet. 

Once he does, Keith breaks away, presumably to look down. Shiro has pulled Keith out of his boxers, and Keith seems to have some sort of intense fascination for how large Shiro’s hand looks against his body. Shiro can relate. He hooks his chin over Keith’s shoulder to get a good eyeful himself, and is treated to the view of Keith’s cock jutting up from his dark coarse curls. Keith’s arms stay looped back around Shiro’s neck and shoulders, one of his hands scratching against the buzzed back of Shiro’s hair in a way that has the tension of the day unknotting from his shoulders. 

Here, just like this, with his prosthetic hand encircling him, he works Keith into a mess, until Keith is biting his bottom lip to stem the little noises that build in his throat. It isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and Shiro knows Keith’s body now. The way that he can press his thumb into the slit to elicit sharp gasps. How he can run his palm over the head to make Keith’s thighs jerk. 

Keith begins to rock against him, rhythmic, teasing. Shiro has to bite back a moan of his own. Keith can definitely feel the way Shiro is hard beneath him, and rubs against him encouragingly. It’s Shiro’s turn to bite back his own noises, because Keith stirs Shiro up until he can’t control himself, until he can’t think of anything but touching him. Part of him wishes he could be loud. Be loud and let everyone in the whole office know exactly who he’s having at his desk right now. 

But he can’t. He knows he can’t. 

Even as Keith moves in his lap, fluid and maddening and too much for Shiro to deal with. His hand stutters over Keith, and Keith tosses his head back against Shiro’s shoulder, his hot breaths ghosting along Shiro’s temple. 

Shiro can’t take it anymore. He grabs Keith by the hips and pushes him forward until he’s shoved up against the desk. Without prompting, Keith kicks off his pants entirely, widens his stance, grabs the edge of the table, and bends until his chest is pressed against the papers Shiro left scattered over its surface. It’s a good look for him and a view that snatches the breath from Shiro’s throat.

“Shiro,  _ please _ ,” Keith gasps against the desktop. 

Shiro rummages through one of his drawers, and resurfaces with a bottle. He isn’t stingy when he pours the contents over his fingers.

Neither was Keith, he finds. 

“ _ Keith _ ,” Shiro says in shock, pressing inside to find almost no resistance, just the smooth slide of lube into irresistible heat. 

“I did it in the bathroom,” Keith replies, breathlessness biting at his tone.

The image of Keith braced against the bathroom stall door, opening himself up on his own fingers, mere feet away from the hustle and bustle of his officemates, is almost too much for Shiro. He feels himself twitch, and suddenly he’s grateful that Keith had the foresight to do this. He needs to be inside of him,  _ now _ . 

He tests him quickly with a few more fingers, but Keith did thorough work. So Shiro yanks down his pants and holds himself steady, heedless of the precome already beading at his tip. Keith is hot against him, the thrum of his body welcoming and warm. Without hesitation, he lines himself up and pushes in. Keith accepts him with a familiar heat and tightness, and Keith bites his knuckles to keep from crying out. Shiro, in turn, leans low over Keith and drags his teeth over his neck. 

Shiro shouldn’t leave marks. He  _ knows _ that. He’s playing a dangerous game here. But something about the way Keith’s skin gleams pale and unblemished from where Shiro’s tugged his shirt off his shoulder calls to him. He can’t help but sink his teeth in as he begins to move. 

And Keith, Keith takes him perfectly. He’s beautifully, gorgeously tight around Shiro, and his whines catch in his throat, and his body is hot where Shiro is pressed against him. Shiro doesn’t take his time. It’s not the place for savoring, for slow enjoyment. There are a million things to do today, dozens of other company employees hard at work right now. But Shiro is currently getting paid to nail one of his underlings against his desk. So he does it hard and fast and unrelenting, even when Keith squirms against him and pants out his name, over and over and over.

The illicit office tryst. Wrong, but incredible. 

He pulses inside Keith at the thought. With his hands tight on Keith’s hips, he chases the pleasure tight in his gut. Keith bucks back to meet his thrusts, after his own end. Shiro gives him a hand, reaching beneath him to wrap his grip around him, and jerks him to match their rhythm. Keith is startlingly loud, so Shiro leans across his body to shove the fingers of his free hand into his mouth, muffling him. Keith swirls his tongue around them, and Shiro feels the scrape of his teeth. It jolts right to his center. 

“Anyone could come looking for us right now, you know,” he tells Keith in between his rapid breaths. “They could knock on that door and ask to come in.”

Keith jumps in Shiro’s hand. A low whine escapes him. Shiro didn’t ever expect this to be one of his kinks, but he can’t deny the incredible appeal of what’s happening between the two of them here. It’s enough, somehow, for him to continue doing it, time after time after time, even though he knows it isn’t right. 

And Keith is beautiful beneath him, beautiful and unmistakably enjoying himself. How could Shiro ever be expected to resist such a gorgeous, willing partner?

“Imagine what they would do if they knew I was taking you on my desk.”

In the aftermath, Shiro knows, he’ll feel embarrassed and weird for even thinking things like that. But right now saying it feels fitting and good. And the way Keith clenches down around him more than makes up for it.

Keith is getting close. Shiro can tell from the way his movements have gone unrhythmic and uneven, how his legs tremble. It’s good, it’s good, it’s just in time because Shiro can’t keep up with his own body’s needs anymore. He lets himself go. Lets himself hurry, speed up, take what he needs. He pulls his fingers out of Keith’s mouth and straightens up, clutching at Keith’s hipbone to keep him steady as he drills in, again and again and again. 

And then Keith is crying his name, and he’s pulsing in Shiro’s hand, and squeezing tight around Shiro inside of him. Shiro works him through it, but Keith is so tight, so incredible, and then Shiro is losing himself too.

He needs a moment to breathe deep, to let the intensity of it, the height of the pleasure to seep out of his body. He waits for his lungs to work again, for his vision to phase back in. Then he slips out of Keith and takes a step back. 

Keith’s come is splattered over Shiro’s desk drawers, over the surface of his desk, over the thumbnail sketches he himself made and brought in here to look at. They both take in the sight as Keith fixes his pants closed and straightens his shirt. With a smug grin, Keith turns to look at Shiro.

“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll catch you around.”

And with that he’s out the door, back into the office, without even a backwards glance.

As he’s cleaning the mess off his desk, Shiro glances down at his left hand, and the glint of his ring catches his eye. And he remembers, suddenly, that he has a husband to look in the face when he arrives at home tonight. 

* * *

There’s a beautiful woman in the lobby. 

There’s a beautiful woman in the lobby and Romelle’s eyes are about to bug out of her head because the beautiful woman asked if  _ Keith _ is here. 

Lance is 99% sure he’s seen this woman in the single framed picture on Keith’s desk. She’s an absolute stunner, too, eyes sharp, Amazon warrior-like in her posture, Scandinavian-esque in proportion, and looking like she could snap the break room table in half just by thinking about it. From his vantage point hiding in the doorway to a nearby office (not that he’s  _ snooping _ or anything), he can see perfectly shaped arms in the sleeves of her shirt. 

It makes sense, he guesses. One of the few things he knows about Keith is that he spends a lot of free time at the gym. Of course anyone he hangs around with would probably spend a lot of time there too. She’s got to be either a model or a professional bodybuilder, with looks like those. 

When Romelle comes back with Keith in tow, the beautiful woman talks to him in a low, unimpressed voice. 

“You didn’t forget we’re going out for lunch today, did you?”

Keith reaches her and she draws him in. She’s taller than him, possibly older than him too, but what does that matter? She leans in to give him a kiss on the temple and he presses back against her a bit, closing his eyes like a cat being pet. 

This  _ has  _ to be her _.  _ Keith’s wife!

“Course not,” Keith says when he pulls away. He sounds more pleasant than usual. The same relaxed way he sounds around Shiro, actually. Lance squints his eyes. He’s a better actor than he lets on. “Let’s go.”

Lance thinks, personally, that even if he had the desire to cheat on a woman so beautiful he would be too scared that she would rip his vertebrae out, one by one. 

They walk out together, an air of casual intimacy around them. If Lance happens to be loitering around the lobby again when they return an hour later, that’s his own business. But this does give him the opportunity to witness the same woman walking Keith all the way inside before picking lint off his shirt, fiddling with his collar, and brushing a strand of hair out of his face. Keith weathers it impassively.

She leaves him with an, “I love you,” which is far more than a dirty cheater like Keith deserves. And Keith actually has the gall to say, “Love you too,” back.

Lance makes sure to dart into the elevator with Keith before the doors close. 

“Had a good time at lunch, huh?” Lance says, making sure to inject all the snideness he possibly can. 

Keith looks at him, his head tilted to the side, his small frown bewildered. “Uh, yeah. I did, actually.”

The bell chirps to announce that they’ve reached their floor, but Lance stands between the doors when they slide open and turns to look Keith in the eye. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Lance says. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What?” is all Keith says in response before Lance marches off. He gets back to work, but he takes note of the beautiful woman’s kind and gentle smile in the photograph Keith has of her, framed neatly on his desk. 

* * *

Hunk launches his attack on Shiro during his lunch break. 

The office is mostly empty, except for Pidge, who for a certified genius has a weird amount of difficulty wrapping her mind around things like the concepts of ‘time off’ and ‘lunch’. He decides to leave her clacking away at her keyboard, gets up, and heads in the direction of Shiro’s office. 

Here’s another person who doesn’t get lunch, or at least doesn’t seem to understand what a break is. Through his open door, Hunk can see him munching on a sandwich with one hand and jotting on a memo pad with the other. Hunk taps out a knock against the door to let Shiro know he’s here, and Shiro looks up to greet him with a smile. 

“What can I help you with?” Shiro asks. He’s friendly enough that Hunk  _ almost _ feels bad for coming in here like this. 

Shiro isn’t a bad guy! That’s what baffles Hunk most about all of this. Shiro is a good person. He runs a tight ship here on his floor of the office, but he’s friendly and charismatic. He always stops to help people out when they need it and he works hard. He cares, he cares so openly and so much about things that matter that it makes Lance loudly swoon and Hunk’s chest ache to listen to him talk sometimes. Everyone respects him. 

With a sigh, Hunk sits on the loveseat across from Shiro’s desk in his office. 

“I made olive bread,” Hunk says, putting a package wrapped in tin foil on the corner of Shiro’s desk. It’s not a bribe. Hunk’s not even sure that giving someone something while asking them to stop openly cheating on their spouse would be considered a bribe, but it’s just a peace offering. “Maybe you could bring it home. Share it with your husband?”

Shiro’s brow creases, but he picks up the foil-wrapped bread and slides it closer to himself. “Thank you, Hunk. You didn’t have to do that.”

With a grin, Hunk shrugs it off. He’s not here to make small talk about bread. Pidge and Lance both nominated him to come here today, against his will quite frankly. Shiro and Keith’s relationship has become a hot topic not just amongst the three of them, but in the office as a whole. Part of Hunk thinks that Shiro and Keith are adults who can make their own decisions and handle their own issues. But he also knows that sooner or later someone is going to make a comment to them, and he would agree that he’s probably the least likely to say the completely wrong thing and make the situation worse. 

“So, what’s up?” Shiro asks. “Do you need something?”

Hunk shifts uncomfortably on the couch, looks away, and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He knows this is the right thing to do. It doesn’t make it easier, but he knows the whole office is depending on him. He looks Shiro in the eye. 

“Shiro, don’t you think maybe what you and Keith are doing is kinda uncool?” Hunk says. “Like, maybe not totally fair?”

Shiro’s face goes white as the office dry erase board right after Romelle scrubs the streaks from it. 

“What—what are Keith and I doing?” he asks, words sounding sticky like his mouth is dry. 

Hunk runs a hand through his hair. When did his life become about this? Negotiating about office affairs? All he’s ever wanted is a stable, drama-free job to save up for his dream of opening his own restaurant. He never asked for any of this. 

“Come on, Shiro,” he says. “Don’t make me say it.”

To Hunk’s surprise, Shiro has the audacity to blush. He looks down, completely bashful. 

“R-right,” Shiro says. “I’m—I’m really sorry. We thought we were keeping it quiet. We won’t do it again. Does everyone….”

Hunk nods slowly. “Everyone knows.”

The frown on Shiro’s face is tight and serious. For a second, Hunk actually feels bad for him. He wonders how Keith must’ve seduced a man so pure, a man who loves his husband, a man who is clearly so upset by the idea of everyone knowing that he’s having an affair. Anyone can be betrayed by their own basest instincts though, Hunk guesses.

“Has anyone told HR?” Shiro asks. “I’ll resign.”

Hunk’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody’s asking for that! We love having you as our boss, Shiro. You know that.” He sighs. “Just maybe try not to be so obvious about it. As an adult I’m not going to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do but this is a  _ workplace _ , man.”

“Right. I completely understand.” Shiro looks utterly and completely chagrined. Almost horrified. It’s an expression Hunk never expected to see on him. “I’ll at least make a public apology to the office. I’ll make sure Keith does too.”

That seems a bit over the top, and Hunk makes sure Shiro knows this by waving his hands in front of him. Sure, cheating is probably one of the most horrible things you can do as a person, but it’s really not the office’s business what’s going on in Shiro and Keith’s personal lives. That was the whole point of this talk. 

“That’s really unnecessary, dude,” Hunk says. “I think everyone would feel most comfortable if you just dropped it.”

Shiro nods silently. His lips have formed a thin line and they’re devoid of color. Hunk wonders if he’s going to be sick. If the idea of people knowing he’s a cheater is so horrifying to him, why does he flirt so openly in front of the whole office? Why is he even cheating it in the first place? It mystifies Hunk. 

He tries to change the subject after that, to make Shiro feel better. He asks after Shiro’s pets, and gives him an update on how his current project is going. But Shiro seems distracted the whole time, and Hunk figures it’s probably best if he just leaves. 

“Sorry again, Hunk,” Shiro says, a forlorn, haunted look in his eyes.

“Don’t apologize to  _ me _ ,” Hunk says from the doorway. He figures the,  _ Apologize to your husband _ , is both implied and better left unsaid. 

* * *

“That’s  _ it _ !” Lance screeches. He slams both hands against his desk and stands with so much force his chair goes toppling backwards.

Everyone in the office freezes and turns to look at him. 

Everyone including Keith. Everyone including Shiro. 

Both of whom are next to Lance’s desk. Keith, because that’s where  _ his _ desk is. Shiro, because that’s where Keith is. Apparently. Since Shiro, for some reason, needs to be here right now with his palms on Keith’s shoulders, his thumbs digging into Keith’s trapeziuses, and the crown of Keith’s head pressing back against his abdomen as Keith leans back to grin at him upside down. 

Hunk talking to Shiro was supposed to make the situation better, but if anything it’s actually somehow gotten  _ worse _ . Now instead of sneaking around holding mysterious rendezvous in supply closets and the break room when they think no one else is looking, Keith and Shiro have begun to openly and frequently share their affections for each other. It’s not like Hunk’s chat has made them consider owning up to their wrongdoings with their spouses, either. They’re both still wearing their wedding rings, and Keith still has that picture of his wife on his desk. The fact that Shiro can come up behind Keith, right in view of a photograph of such a lovely lady, and begin rubbing his shoulders until he starts making those  _ awful _ noises is possibly the greatest affront Lance has seen to date. 

“Is everything okay, Lance?” Shiro asks. His tone is infuriatingly gentle. Someone up to such a terrible thing should not sound so kind.

“No!” Lance replies, perhaps louder than he should. But he’s mad, okay? He’s mad thinking about the poor people out there who adore Shiro and Keith enough to marry them, and how it would make them feel to see things like Shiro brushing the ends of Keith’s hair off his shoulders. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t just sit here and let this happen anymore!”

Keith glances around, as if looking for a source of irritation. The jerk can’t even understand that it’s him! “Let  _ what _ happen.”

“This!” Lance replies, gesturing wildly to the scene in front of him. Keith, at his desk, looking at him over his shoulder like he’s grown another limb. Shiro, with his hand still on Keith’s back, patiently waiting for some kind of explanation. “You guys! Right in front of us all the time!”

Shiro’s eyebrows lower, but he takes his hand off of Keith. Good. 

“I gotta agree with Lance on this one,” Pidge pipes up from across the aisle. “It’s really not cool that you guys are coming in here and cheating in front of everyone.”

“Cheating?” Shiro chokes on the word, his eyes flying wide. He looks at Pidge with eyebrows high and his lips parted. 

“Yeah, especially after I talked to you about it!” Hunk chimes in. “C’mon guys.”

Now Keith is rising to stand too, his mouth frowning and his eyes troubled. He looks from Lance to Pidge to Hunk and crosses his arms, slipping half in front of Shiro like he’s shielding him from their words. 

“You talked to me about...cheating?” Shiro asks. 

“Yeah!” Lance replies. He’s still worked up about this. They’re going to hash this out right here, right now. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? You’re both married, but you come in here and flirt with each other all day! It’s embarrassing and it’s a shitty thing to do!”

Lance’s words echo back to him in a moment of long, anticipatory silence. 

“Holy—,” Keith breathes at the same time Shiro says, “I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here.”

“Uh-huh,” Lance snaps. “Go ahead. Try to explain it away as a ‘misunderstanding’. I’m sure your spouses will  _ love _ that excuse.”

Shiro takes a deep breath.

“Lance...we’re married,” he says.

“I know, that’s the problem!”

“No, Lance….” Shiro is wincing a little bit. He gestures to himself, and then to Keith, and then back again. “ _ We’re _ married.”

“To each other,” Keith clarifies, if the hand motion wasn’t enough.

There’s a long quiet. The kind in which you can hear your own mortality, and wonder why it refuses to catch up with you fast enough. Somewhere in the corner someone makes a sound, and Lance doesn’t have the brainpower to parse whether it was a laugh or a sniffle. 

“Oh,” Hunk says, breaking the stillness that’s settled down over the entire room. “Oh, okay, yeah, that does explain everything.”

“No it doesn’t!” Lance says, jerking back into motion again, grasping for the last of his sanity. He points a quivering finger at Keith. “Then who was that woman I saw you going out to lunch with?”

Keith’s frown grows noticeably more pronounced. “You mean my  _ mom _ ?”

“What?” Lance shouts. “There’s no way.” He snatches the framed photograph off of Keith’s desk and holds it aloft. “ _ This _ is not your mom.” 

She’s too young! She’s too beautiful. She’s too...too….

Shiro leans in to look at the picture, but then he nods. “Yeah, that’s Krolia. My mother-in-law.”

Trotting over from his desk, Hunk grabs it from Lance’s hand. He pores over it for a minute, his mouth stretching into a smile. “Whoa, she looks just like Keith.” He laughs. “You thought this was his  _ wife _ ?”

Lance snatches the picture back and pulls it up to study it. Now that he really looks, now that he thinks about it, the resemblance is almost creepy. They have the same eyes. They have the same hair. They have the same nose and the same mouth and the same eyebrows. 

Okay so maybe...this is not Keith’s wife. 

He sighs deeply, and returns the photograph to the desk. 

“Sorry Shiro,” Keith says, with a hint of a laugh. “I know you wanted to keep it a secret.”

Shiro slides his arm around Keith’s waist and leans towards him, planting a kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I just didn’t want to start office drama but...it looks like we might have anyway.”

Under Shiro’s arm, Keith grins the sort of grin that Lance only ever sees on him in Shiro’s presence. He looks happy, and so does Shiro, now that Lance looks at him. In the few years Lance has been working in this office, the only time he’s ever seen Shiro look as content as he does when talking about his husband is when he’s with Keith. And if it turns out that they’re the same person, then in that case...Lance guesses it’s okay, as disbelieving and mortified as he feels. He inhales deeply. 

“Hey guys,” he says. Keith and Shiro’s eyes snap to him, and Lance finds he can’t meet their gazes. “I’m sorry for thinking that you were both dirty, awful cheaters.”

“Oh yeah,” Hunk says. “I’m so sorry, Shiro. Forget that conversation we had the other day. If I had known you two were married I wouldn’t have been bothered at all.”

“Wait, what?” Shiro replies, his expression growing serious. “You wouldn’t have?”

Hunk shakes his head, grinning. “By you two flirting all the time?” He chuckles. “No way. You’re actually pretty adorable. I would’ve been rooting for you the whole time.”

“Flirting,” Shiro repeats, his eyes getting a distant, glassy look in them. “You were talking about the flirting....”

Lance doesn’t have any idea of what’s going on in Shiro’s brain, but he does know what’s going on in his own and it’s severe, vertigo-inducing humiliation. He’s vaguely aware that the entire office is still watching them, and the only thing that’s kept him from dying on the spot is the knowledge that everyone in the office was behind him on his crusade. 

“Alright,” he says, pulling on some false bravado that he didn’t know he still had in him after all the shouting he just did. “Time to get back to work. Let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?”

“Sure,” Shiro laughs. “If you run and get me and Keith venti pumpkin spice lattes.”

* * *

When all is said and done, Keith can’t help but laugh. Lance and Hunk have just left to go on their apology Starbucks run, and the rest of the office has returned to their own business, namely chittering about the drama of the day. Shiro still stands beside his desk, his arm warm and heavy around Keith’s waist as they watch the floor’s attention drift back to more exciting things, like messaging their coworkers in other departments to ask if they knew that Keith and Shiro are  _ married _ .

Keith angles himself towards Shiro and looks up into the handsome face of the man he’s in love with. Like Lance, sometimes he can’t believe he’s the one married to Shiro either. Just a few years ago he never would’ve imagined that he would ever be this lucky. 

But Shiro is gazing down at him with an expression so soft and gentle it makes Keith’s heart stutter in his chest, like he imagines it will for the rest of his life. He can’t help but allow himself to smirk a bit. 

“So, does that mean office sex is still on the table then, or…,” Keith asks. 

Shiro breathes a laugh and pulls Keith in tighter. 

“If we keep it down it is,” he murmurs into his ear. 

Keith checks the clock on his computer. “How long until they’re gonna be back with the coffee?”

“I’d say we have about fifteen minutes,” Shiro says, pulling away. “Meet you in my office?”

Keith grins. “See you there.”

**Author's Note:**

> ty as always to [moth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingisland/pseuds/flyingisland), whom i adore, for being an amazing beta and friend. it was her idea that their office is a video game company! i never actually mention that in the fic but i wrote it with that in mind
> 
> you can hang w me on [tumblr](https://epiproctan.tumblr.com)
> 
>  **edit:** i totally forgot to mention that the concept of this fic is based on a tumblr post i saw once that has since disappeared into the void. if anyone knows the one i'm talking about and could link me i'd appreciate it!


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